Stealing a Lady's Heart: A Regency Fairytale (Fairfield Fairytales Book 1) (6 page)

Charlotte thought back to the night they had first met. When she had arrived home, her father told her that Lord Bard, the Marquess of Huntly had requested her hand in marriage. She had been stunned. How could the marquess think they were a good match? What little she knew about the man, she disliked. 

Her father had assured her that he would not marry her to the marquess but that it would be best if she picked a suitor. She had agreed to pacify her father. If Charlotte did need to pick a husband, she had many men to choose from.

The situation had gotten strange. Each of her potential suitors had fallen off. They had gotten injured, or sick, or fell in love with someone else. She hadn’t complained since she didn’t really want to be married to any of those men.

When Elizabeth requested her visit, Charlotte had jumped at the chance to leave and her father had jumped to find her more suitors. She could have smacked herself. It was so foolish to run towards the Marquess of Huntly when she was, in fact, attempting to run away from him.

The air began to feel cooler, and Charlotte guessed that they were nearing the ocean. The water was heavy with moisture. The moonlight suddenly shone through the clouds and Charlotte could clearly see the beach and a boat ahead of her. Fear trickled down her spine. By water, they could be going anywhere.

The large ship was just out past the break. Three rowboats waited. She was tossed into the bottom of one, and they began paddling out to the ship. There was a puddle of water that quickly soaked her nightgown and she was half frozen. Her teeth chattered from the cold and the fear.

No one had spoken a single word and that somehow made it more frightening. They were efficient and cold. Charlotte fought back tears as they bounced over waves. She held out hope that Graham would appear, but he did not. Despair engulfed her.

They reached the side of the ship and she was roughly grabbed and loaded onto the boat and pushed into a cabin. At least here she was not sitting in a puddle of water. But she was cold and alone and tears fell in earnest down her cheeks. She bit back a sob; she didn’t want them to hear her cry. Her hands were still tied behind her back and at least thirty men on the boat with her. There was no way to escape.

Finally, the voices of sailors penetrated the dark. Somehow, hearing voices bolstered her spirit. Commands were given, and Charlotte heard the sails unfurl as they quickly set sail. She could hear the rush of the surf.

Charlotte awkwardly moved into a sitting position. She sat for a long time listening to the water. No one appeared and she could hear no more voices. Loneliness filled her. She closed her eyes and remembered how it had felt to be held against Graham’s strong chest. As the time ticked past, Charlotte’s eyes grew heavy. She drifted in and out of sleep.

When the night was at its darkest, the sound of voices once again pierced the deck of the ship. Charlotte jerked awake as the door of the cabin wrenched open. Two captors dragged her out onto the deck.

Charlotte fought to stay on her feet as she lifted her head and turned towards the land. A large castle seemed to rise out of the ocean and she could only guess that this was the home of the marquess. In the dark it appeared black and angular and it frightened her even more than the men who had captured her.

She was loaded onto another row boat. It was freezing cold here, and she shivered in the night air. She was still tied and in a thin nightgown. She knew the marquess lived on an island. Another wave of panic engulfed her. How would Graham save her here?

The thought startled Charlotte. She had only known him for a day yet she fully expected Graham to come for her. She had woken yesterday morning prepared to hate him. No, she was trying to hate him because she was attracted to him. There was a difference.

It was a moot point now because he was the only one that could possibly help her and she would give anything to be back in his arms. She might even marry him if she got out of this. She definitely planned to spend more time touching him.

The men pulled her from the row boat onto the shore, and her feet dragged through the water. Charlotte began shaking violently. She tried to control it, but she was freezing and frightened. Two men hauled her up a large staircase that ended on a courtyard in front of a castle. The massive front doors opened. Even from this distance Charlotte recognized Lord Bard, the Marquess of Huntly. He was bold indeed to steal a duke’s daughter.

His black cape billowed around him, and the moonlight glinted off his dark eyes. “Good evening Lady Beaumont, good of you to come.”

Charlotte did not respond. It was absurd to exchange greetings like this was a social call.

The men unexpectedly released her and she dropped to the ground.  She looked down at herself. Her nightgown was covered in blood. Her body was still shaking, and her mind was muddled. Had she been harmed? She tried to concentrate on each part of her body. While there was a general ache, she could feel no wounds. She could only assume one or more of the men had been injured and bled on her. It gave her some small amount of satisfaction that Graham had wounded them.

The marquess approached and she tried to get up but fell back down. She wanted to run, but her legs would not work. She was tied up, shivering and weak.

He stared at her with beady eyes. “There is nowhere to run.  Don’t bother trying.”  He came to stand over her. She shook more violently. “Washing all this blood off of you will be a nightmare.”

Was she supposed to apologize?  Her anger at his comment made her feel less afraid. She almost laughed at the absurdity. Her chin tilted up in defiance. A gesture he clearly took note of.

“How many men did we lose?” Lord Bard looked away from her and addressed one of the men in black.

“Seven, and three more were injured.” The man looked down at his arm. Because of his black clothes, Charlotte hadn’t noticed a large gash.

“Did all four brothers attack you?” Lord Bard’s nostril’s flared.

“No sir,” the man hesitated.

“How many?” Lord Bard’s voice came out in a growl.

“Just one,” the man’s voice was almost a whisper.

Lord Bard looked back at her. “Which brother was your champion?”

She looked at him not answering, but he grabbed her hair and yanked hard. “Graham,” she whispered.

“The Fairfields are an annoying bunch. While many have sold their lands and surrendered their livestock those fools keep fighting. They have been a thorn in my side.” 

Charlotte’s eyes widened as she gasped.  The Fairfields’ troubles were caused by the marquess?

“Kill some livestock, scare away the peasants, lay some misfortune at their door and the lords fold. All of them, except for the Fairfields.” He grabbed her by the hair again, yanking her up.

“You have also proven troublesome but once we are married, you will fall in line.” He gestured to several servants standing by the door.

“Wash her and dress her in a manner befitting a marchioness,” his voice boomed and the servants scrambled to do his bidding.

“I will never be your wife,” her lips curled over the words.

“Careful girl. You will do fine with me if you learn obedience. Your father should have done a better job of teaching you. We will deal with him soon enough. I am not a man who likes to wait to inherit his titles.” He shoved her toward a servant, and she stumbled, her legs barely working, her hands still tied.

A servant caught her. She looked back at Lord Bard, but he had already turned to his men. They spoke in hushed tones and she couldn’t catch a word of what they said.

Another servant stepped to Charlotte’s side, and the two carried her into the giant fortress that was to be her prison.

The main hall was as cold and formidable as the exterior of the castle and Charlotte’s body was now racked with shivers.  Even in the heat of the summer this place was frozen and desolate.

The servants veered off the hall to a back staircase, where they carried her up and up and up the stairs. The climb seemed endless.

Finally, they stopped at a door and the man to her left pulled out a large set of keys. They clanked as he opened the lock and the door swung in.

Blessedly a hot bath had already been poured and the male servants left as the female servants began bathing her in the hot water. Lord Bard had been right. The blood was difficult to wash and her skin was scrubbed pink to remove it all.

Charlotte was dressed in a fine wool gown. It told her that the day would be no warmer than the night, as the sun began to peek its first rays into her only window. So, she was facing east.

Her hair was dressed, pulled tightly back and coiled up so no strand could escape. It was in stark contrast to her normal loose style. The sun coming through her window burned her eyes, a reminder that she had barely slept the night before. 

While she desperately wanted to escape, she needed some rest to make that happen, neither her mind nor her body would work correctly in its current state.

Lord Bard entered the room. He surveyed her appearance. “You are terribly beautiful. I don’t know when I have seen a lady more comely than you.”

She arched her eyebrows. Normally a scathing retort would have left her lips but she was exhausted and frightened. So she said nothing.

He stepped closer to her. His thumb touched her lips. She shivered with revulsion and fear. “You will be mine,” Lord Bard gritted out.

Charlotte turned her head away unable to look at his hard face and beady eyes any longer. His lips curled into a hard thin smile as he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “Just so you don’t get any ideas, you will have a roommate. The priest will be here at first light tomorrow morning to make us man and wife.”

Her eyes grew large with fear. That didn’t give Graham much time. A sob escaped her. 

His smile grew. “You could do worse than a marquess.”

“I don’t see how that is possible,” she sneered.

He smacked her hard across the face and she staggered back. “Obedience,” he growled.

Charlotte’s eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them out. Lord Bard walked to the door and ushered a soldier inside who took a chair next to the window. She was sure another would be stationed just outside the door. Lord Bard turned back to her. “Eat and get some rest. I want a beautiful bride for my wedding day.” 

With that, he was gone.  He left the door open and for a wild second, Charlotte thought she could escape.  But before she could even take a step, a line of servants come in bearing trays of food.  Part of her wanted to refuse the marquess’ hospitality, but she would need her strength. She ate until she was full.

When she was done, the soldier stepped out, and servants changed her into new night clothes. Apparently she had been dressed for Lord Bard’s brief visit.  She lay down in the giant bed and fell fast asleep.

STEALING A LADY’S HEART

CHAPTER SIX

Graham, however, did not sleep at all. As the men disappeared from view, he raced back through the woods toward his family. There was no use chasing men on horseback. Besides, he knew where they were taking her. He cleared the woods and picked up speed as he neared his brothers. They ran towards him. “Ready the wagon. Swords, bows, muskets, rope, hooks, any other weapons you can find.”  Graham shouted as he slowed momentarily.

“Nick, get any northern nautical maps you have. I’m sailing for Oronsa Island.” Then Graham took the stairs two at a time and sprinted down the hall to his room where he threw open the chest at the end of his bed.